A loud clattering noise and the sound of an engine interrupted them. Bran gazed, open-mouthed, at the passenger train that slid to a stop at their platform.
“This is amazing,” he shouted over the squeal of brakes. “We’re really getting on this? I’ll never ride a horse again if this is an option.”
Aidan ushered them up the steps. He had to drag Bran across the threshold when Bran stopped to examine the rubber on the door seal. Gwen pushed him down into the first available seat, but he leaped up again immediately for a better view out the window.
“He’s like a kid at Christmas,” said Aidan with a grin.
“Yeah, and Santa was very good to him,” said Gwen.
The train shuddered and rolled down the track, slowly at first but accelerating rapidly. Bran whooped loudly, and the other passengers tutted.
“Come on, Bran.” Gwen pulled at his shirt. “Sit down.”
They flew through the countryside, farms and hedgerows whipping past their window. The rain was ceaseless, and the sky grew steadily darker. Soon it was difficult to see out of the rain-glazed window. Every subsequent group of passengers that boarded the train was wetter than the previous. Wind rocked the carriage sideways on its tracks.
After twenty minutes, the train slowed to a stop with no station in sight. The overhead speaker system crackled to life and Bran clutched Gwen’s arm.
“This is your driver speaking. There is a tree down across the tracks from the storm. Crews are clearing it, but we have an estimated ten-minute wait here, so find yourself a comfortable seat.”
“That’s unusual,” said Aidan. He and Gwen looked at each other, then Gwen turned her gaze to the sleet now driving against the window. In the distance, lightning cracked.
“It’s getting worse,” said Gwen.
“Look at this.” Aidan passed a folded newspaper across the aisle to Gwen. The headline he pointed at said, “Unprecedented earthquake rocks Bedford.” Gwen scanned the story then passed the paper back.
“I thought England didn’t get earthquakes. That’s why you have so many brick buildings over here.”
“We don’t.”
“Does all this feel unusual to you?” Gwen said, staring out the window. “Too coincidental?”
“What, the weather? Or the earthquake?”
“Both.”
“You think they’re connected?” Aidan looked skeptical. “Surely not.”
“It’s because of the extra portals, remember?” Bran said without turning from his examination of the window latch. “Father said it would make the worlds unstable. Rip them apart, eventually. What does this do?” He pointed at the latch. Gwen exchanged a horrified glance with Aidan.
“What does ‘rip apart’ mean? Faolan wasn’t clear about the consequences of all this earlier.”
“Who knows? It’s never happened, has it?” Bran leaned back in his seat. “But all signs point to the destruction of both our lands if this continues. Perhaps they will rip apart entirely and drift away to become wastelands, perhaps they will fuse together and create a whole new world—after severe chaos, of course.”
“Of course,” Aidan muttered. Gwen reached across and grabbed his hand.
“We’ll figure something out. I don’t want England to turn into a wasteland either.”
“But the alternative…” He squeezed her hand tightly.
Gwen sighed. The train jolted forward, and Gwen welcomed the change of topic.
“Looks like we’re moving again.”
“What happens when we arrive?” said Bran. “Where is Isolde? Can we walk there?”
“Too far, especially in this weather,” Aidan said. “We’ll catch the bus.”
“Really?” Bran’s eyes shone with excitement. “What an amazing day.”
***
Gwen rang the doorbell of Ada’s cottage. She shivered despite her warm coat. Above, lightning cracked in the darkening sky from which rain flowed with ever-increasing ferocity. Aidan’s shoulders were hunched under his rain jacket, and Bran held his cloak over his head. He watched Gwen press the doorbell with curiosity.
“This trifling rain doesn’t dampen your spirits, does it, Bran?” Aidan said.
“Did you see that button Gwen pressed? It made a noise.”
Aidan was spared from answering by the front door opening. Ada peered out at them over her reading glasses. Her eyes widened when she spotted Gwen.
“You must be soaked. Come in, come in—no, don’t mind the rug. It’s only a bit of water. Close the door—I’d rather not lose our heat.”
Gwen waited introductions until they had shrugged off coats and slid out of boots.
“Aunty Ada, this is our friend Bran. He lives—north of here.”
“Nice to meet you.” Bran stuck out his hand with the fingers splayed slightly. Gwen stifled a giggle. Ada grasped Bran’s hand with dignity.
“And yourself. I expect you’ve had a long trip from not too far away.” She gave Bran an uncharacteristic wink and Bran laughed. He kissed Ada’s hand.
“Just so.”
Gwen exchanged a startled glance with Aidan.
“Aunty Ada, what did you mean?”
Ada patted Gwen’s shoulder with a smile.
“I may be old, but I can put two and two together all the same. I’ve often wondered about Alan’s disappearance and your mysterious birth. Along with my grandmother’s bedtime tales and your mother’s recent appearance from thin air, I have a pretty good notion of what it all means. But I won’t intrude, my dear. I’ll be in my sewing room if you should need me.”
Gwen could only shake her head in amazement at Ada’s pronouncement before her father clattered down the stairs and Ada walked to a back room out of earshot.
“Gwen!” He gave her a swift hug. “You’re back. Thank goodness. What’s the news? Let’s go into the living room. And who’s this?” He nodded to Bran.
“Aidan, can you do intros? I’d better get Isolde before we explain everything.”
Aidan nodded, and her father pointed up the stairs.
“She’s in the guest room.”
Gwen ran up the stairs and banged on the bedroom door.
“Enter,” Isolde’s low voice responded. Gwen didn’t wait for a second invitation and barged into the room. Isolde lay on top of the quilt, her white-streaked raven hair disheveled on the pillow.
“Hi,” Gwen said. “I saw Faolan. He’s calling a conclave and you need to be there.”
Isolde sat up straight immediately. Her eyes pierced Gwen’s.
“Conclave? Of course. The situation calls for it, certainly. And he will need a representative from the Velvet Woods. Yes.”
She swung her legs off the bed and stood. Her pale skin flushed with color. A frown creased her brow.
“But what shall I wear? I have nothing. Nothing!” She held out her cardigan with dismay. “I cannot possibly show myself like this at Faolan’s court, let alone at conclave. Where is your nearest seamstress? Send for her right away, there is no time to lose.”
Gwen shook her head in exasperation. Of course, Isolde would focus on her looks. She hadn’t asked about whether Faolan had an answer to Gwen’s conundrum. Her vanity took precedence.
“You can wear your white dress for now. Aunty Ada kindly cleaned it for you the best she could. Then ask Faolan for clothes to borrow. Bran lent me a dress last time I was there.”
“Never!” Isolde rushed to the mirror and ran her fingers through her tangled hair with a look of consternation. “I cannot ask for charity, from Faolan of all people. Not as the queen of the Velvet Woods.”
“But you’re not queen anymore, are you?” Gwen said. Isolde visibly wilted, and Gwen regretted her harsh words. Isolde’s fretfulness had little to do with the state of her clothes, and everything to do with her loss of the only life she’d ever known. Pride was masking fear. Gwen sighed. “Change into your white dress once we get to the Otherworld, and we can figure something out there. Okay?”
Isolde no
dded mutely. There was a knock at the door, and Gwen went to open it. Ada stood outside.
“Apologies for the intrusion,” said Ada. She held out a bundle of fabric. “It’s cold out there. I thought this shawl might coordinate with Isolde’s dress better than a coat.”
Gwen took the shawl.
“Thanks, Aunty Ada. That’s great.” She passed the shawl to Isolde, who held it out to examine it.
“It will do,” said Isolde. At a meaningful glance from Gwen, she added, “Very nicely. My appreciation.”
Ada raised an eyebrow but nodded and withdrew.
“Since, as you say, I am no longer queen,” Isolde said quietly. “Who will take my place at conclave?”
“Corann, as far as I know. Faolan sent the summons.”
“Faolan summoned the usurper.” Isolde’s tone was bitter. “So, he acknowledges Corann’s claim. His fictional claim. I expected better of Faolan.”
Gwen decided not to comment on this.
“Let’s go downstairs. I need to tell Dad what’s going on, then we have to leave.”
Gwen left the room before Isolde could protest and clattered down the stairs. The others were in the living room. Alan and Aidan sat on the couch, Alan warily watching Bran circumnavigate the room. Bran was enthusiastic in his explorations.
“You say this thing tells you where the sun is? You don’t need to look outside?” He peered at a ticking clock on the mantlepiece and tapped its face.
“Close enough.” Aidan caught Gwen’s eye and grinned. “And the lights turn on with that switch over there.”
Bran leaped across the room and pushed the switch up. An overhead light flickered on. Bran’s face opened in euphoric awe.
“Humans are so wonderful.” He flicked the light off and on rapidly. In the strobe effect, her father’s face showed alarm at Bran’s flightiness. Gwen could almost hear his inner protests over Gwen leaving with Bran. Before he could voice his concerns aloud, Gwen spoke.
“Stop the lights, Bran. I need to tell Dad what’s happening.” Bran took his finger off the light switch and put his fidgeting hands behind his back. Gwen turned to her father, whose hopeful expression drained away at the look on Gwen’s face.
“I’ll keep it quick,” she said. “Faolan doesn’t know any way to cancel or move the succession without another suitable heir.” Alan’s shoulders slumped, and his face crumpled. Gwen forged ahead. “He confirmed that I’m the chosen heir, magically speaking. And the only way to stop the worlds from tearing themselves apart is to put me on the throne.” Gwen found she couldn’t look at her father’s stricken face any more, and instead addressed her comments to the floor. “Obviously, Faolan wants to stop the destruction, so he’s called a meeting of the rulers of nearby realms to get them to help attack Corann and force him off the throne.”
“War,” Alan said flatly. “He’s declaring war. This is insane. This whole thing is insane. Pack your bag, Gwen. We’re heading to the airport today and taking the first flight home.”
“I can’t do that, Dad,” Gwen said gently. “You know I can’t. The destruction has only just begun. The worlds will keep ripping apart, the Otherworld and England both, until—who knows what will be left?” She scrubbed her face and risked a glance at Aidan, who looked as mutinous as Alan. “Let’s take it one step at a time, okay? Maybe the other rulers have another idea about the succession.”
“I can’t convince you otherwise, can I?” Alan looked at the ceiling. “How did it come to this? How did my Gwennie end up on a battlefield in another world?”
“There’s no battlefield yet, and definitely not for me,” Gwen said. “And nothing has been decided yet. I’ll call you every day, and every time I hear something new. Okay?”
Alan looked at her and nodded mutely. Gwen bit her lip, but then nodded.
“Aidan, Bran, Isolde. Let’s go.”
Chapter 7
Isolde pulled her borrowed cardigan tightly around herself and gazed through the train window at the gray skies drizzling rain. A large carpet bag containing her dress and Ada’s shawl rested against her on the adjacent seat. Bran leaned toward Gwen.
“What’s the fastest this train thing goes? How does it work? What do you feed it?”
“Umm…” Gwen glanced at Aidan, who shrugged.
“I’m in music, not engineering. Petrol? Electricity? We’ve moved on from coal, I presume.”
“Astounding,” said Bran with a glint in his eyes. “I’d love to stay here. Father would probably lock me in the dungeons if he heard me say that, but it’s true.”
“How long until our arrival?”
Gwen jumped at the sound of Isolde’s voice. She had been quiet for the whole trip until this moment.
“We’re slowing down now,” Aidan said. He peered out of the window. “Yeah, we’ve arrived.”
The train pulled into the station and Bran leaped up, then staggered when the train jolted to a stop.
“Whew. Let’s go!”
“We need a cab,” said Aidan when they had exited the station. “I don’t fancy the walk again.”
“What’s a cab?” said Bran. In answer, Aidan waved at the line of black cars. Bran grinned.
“Where to?” said the driver once they had settled into the cab, Aidan in the front and the other three squeezed into the back. Aidan checked his phone.
“A half-mile before Great Livermere. There’s a big oak tree beside the road.”
The driver stared at him.
“You don’t have an address for me? Why do you want to be dropped off there?”
“We have reasons,” said Aidan. When he said nothing more, the driver shrugged.
“As long as you’re ready to walk.”
Their path led through the outskirts of Bury St. Edmunds, and past a sign to Great Livermere. The driver pulled onto a narrow track through a field and stopped. A massive oak waved barren limbs above their heads.
“Here we are. Better you than me.” The driver closed his fist around the pound notes Aidan placed in his hand. He jerked his head. “Out you go. I’ve a long drive until I find another fare.”
They all climbed out. Bran gave the cab a fond pat on its roof before it backed out of the lane and roared away to Bury St. Edmunds. The four were silent in its wake.
“I shall need to change clothes,” Isolde said finally. “I cannot enter my world dressed in this.” She gestured to her borrowed jeans and cardigan. Gwen looked around.
“There’s a bush over there. You can change behind it.”
Isolde stared at the bush for a long moment and tears gathered in her eyes. She said nothing, however, but picked up the carpet bag and slowly walked to the bush. Aidan glanced around until he spotted the remnants of their previous portal.
“Here it is. I’ll open this one a little more, so we can get through.” He stared at it for a moment. “I shouldn’t expect them to close anymore, should I?”
Gwen shook her head.
“Not until we figure out how to fix things.” She turned to Bran. “What’s going to happen at this conclave?”
“The last one happened when I was too young to attend.” Bran shrugged. “But from what I heard, it’s part boring meeting, part excellent party. The delegates from each realm dress in their realm’s traditional clothing and bring their own cooks to make traditional dishes from their realm for the feast.”
“And there’ll be dancing, no doubt,” Aidan whispered in Gwen’s ear. She stifled a snort.
Isolde emerged from behind the bush. Her white dress hardly showed the dirt stains, and Ada’s beaded shawl distracted from the imperfections. Isolde had braided and pinned up her hair in a simple but elegant knot at the nape of her neck.
“Good,” said Gwen. “Let’s go face the music.”
Aidan held out his arm with a theatrical flourish. The portal opened wider with a delicate swishing sound of ripping gossamer fabric.
“After you,” Aidan started to say, but Isolde had already swept through without a bac
kward glance. Gwen rolled her eyes and put her arm around Bran’s shoulders.
“Come on, let’s get you home.”
Bran looked longingly around the road and fields but followed Gwen’s gentle pressure through the portal. Aidan followed quickly, but the portal did not close behind him.
Gwen looked around at her surroundings in the Otherworld. They were standing in a horse stall in the stables of Faolan’s palace, the same place they had left from in the morning. The smell of warm horse permeated the air, and motes of hay dust drifted before Gwen’s eyes. The portal to the windy human roadside was an aberration in this warm refuge. A horse in the next stall whickered and Isolde pursed her lips in distaste.
“I had forgotten how enamored Faolan is with these odiferous beasts.” She lifted her skirts out of the straw. Aidan leaned into Gwen.
“You come by your dislike for horses honestly, looks like.”
Gwen grinned. Bran pushed the stall door, but it was latched from the outside. The door was no deterrent to Bran, who shimmied up and over it before Gwen could say anything. It creaked open and Bran waved them forward. He was flanked by two sheepish-looking guards.
“We didn’t hear you come through the portal, Prince Bran,” said one. “I’ll alert the king at once.”
“No need. We’ll go ourselves. This way, everyone.” Bran strode with swift footsteps to the doors leading into the palace.
Gwen snuck her hand into Aidan’s, and he gave it a squeeze. They left Isolde to trail behind them, doing her best to appear regal and dignified. The guards whispered in her wake.
Bran swept them through a narrow corridor into the hall covered with stuffed animal heads. Gwen tried not to examine them too closely, and Isolde sniffed behind her. The double doors of the great hall loomed ahead, and Bran swing them open as if he owned them.
“Father! We’re back, and the mission was successful.” He waved at Isolde, who drew herself up and let the shawl drape gracefully over her arms. She inclined her head.
“King Faolan. I bring you respectful greetings from the Velv—from myself.” Isolde flushed slightly, and her hands trembled as she arranged her shawl, but her chin went up in defiance.
Breenan Series Box Set Page 55